


Assassin's Creed: Initiate

by WhitethornWolf



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 02:04:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10652682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhitethornWolf/pseuds/WhitethornWolf
Summary: A thief working the streets of Rome, Anna is one of many--until she's plucked from poverty and recruited into the Assassin Brotherhood. Chosen to steal a priceless manuscript, the consequences of her success--or failure--will affect not just her brothers in Rome, but around the world--now and in the future.





	Assassin's Creed: Initiate

 

Anna dove into the throng of people blocking the street ahead of her just in time to hear the nearest guard shout.

The purse jingled as she clutched it to her chest and ran, dodging this way and that to avoid the people slowly filling the streets. Some onlookers turned to stare as she dashed by, but most just ignored her. Thievery was common enough in Rome that nobody cared unless it was their purse. The guards were also Borgia men and were widely disliked, a fact Anna was counting on to work in her favour.

The Mausoleo di Augusto flashed by on her right, and for a split second she considered doubling back and hiding in the ruins until the guards had given up - then another two guards appeared in her peripheral vision.

 

_ I’ll kill Claudio, the _ pezzo di merda, she thought furiously as she narrowly missed running into a noblewoman. The hour before Mass was a dangerous temptation for a starving thief. Nobility and clergy alike carried fat purses, but where there were nobles and priests there were guards. The high risk was worth the reward...or so her fellow thieves said. In hindsight, Anna wasn’t so sure. If she could escape the guards and get out of the Centro district, the urchins would feed as well as she.

That particular illusion was shattered when a heavy blow sent her tumbling to the ground, dropping the purse and spilling ducati all over the street.

She was on her feet in seconds despite skinned knees, stuffing coins into every pocket she could reach.

“Stop! _Al ladro!_ ”

Anna feinted right, narrowly missing another onlooker and took a running jump onto a shop front with a wooden awning. Her knees banged painfully against the wood and stone, but she climbed with the speed borne from years of practice, ignoring the string of curses from the merchant below.

This was usually the moment when the guards gave up on chasing her. But as she pulled herself over the rooftop a crack like thunder rent the air and something whizzed by her ear with enough heat to scorch her face.

They were  _ shooting  _ at her--for petty thievery? Just whose purse had she cut? A cardinal’s, probably. Maybe this was God’s way of punishing her. Either way, it didn’t matter. She had to make it into the Campagna district or they’d be scraping bits of her off the rooftops.

Navigating Rome from above was something she’d been doing most of her life. Anna knew the streets, but the rooftops belonged to thieves. She fell into an easy rhythm, legs pumping, arms held out for balance as she leapt from roof to roof.

 

She was metres away from the district wall when a roof tile skittered under her soft boots, turning her landing into a sprawl.

“He’s here! Here!”

Anna jammed her heels into the roof and slid sideways, scrabbling for a handhold -- her fingers found purchase and she stopped with a sudden jerk, gasping as the adrenaline caught up with her.

If I somehow live through this, she thought, I really will kill Claudio.

There was no escape this time. There were guards on the street below, shouting curses and waving swords; no doubt there were more on the rooftops. All for one thief. She would have been flattered if she wasn’t also staring death in the face.

“ _Mi arrendo!_ ” she shouted. “Let me get down.”

Anna flipped deftly onto her stomach and slid off the roof. Her scraped hands dug into the rough brick as she descended; fear made her quick despite her sweaty palms.

If she surrendered quietly, perhaps the punishment would be lenient. Some time in prison with bread and water, or her palm would be branded. There were worse punishments for thieves.

Being a woman might, for once, work in her favour.

 

There were only two guards that remained from the chase. As she dropped to the ground they advanced on her, weapons raised.

They would kill her; she could see it in their eyes. Cursing, Anna drew her dagger.

Then the guards crumpled as a shadowy figure came down upon them with enough force to smash them into the ground.

The figure--a man in white robes--stood, and the blades in his hands dripped with blood.

“ _Cavolo!_ ”

The man didn’t seem to hear her exclamation, nor did he turn to look at her. Instead he knelt by the bodies and turned them over slowly, almost ritualistically. She barely heard him murmur words in a foreign tongue before passing his hand over one’s eyes.

He did the same with the other guard, murmuring the words unknown to her ears. Only then did he stand and turn to face her.

The robes were strange enough, if she hadn’t witnessed his attack on the Borgia guards. His head was covered by a hood that kept most of his face in shadow, and he wore armour of metal and leather. Such a person could have hardly stayed inconspicuous in Rome for long, and for a brief moment Anna wondered how he had managed to avoid the guards long enough to sneak up on them.

“Hold,” he said, as she raised her dagger. “I will not harm you.”

Anna scowled suspiciously. That the man saved her life was not lost on her, but the speed and ferocity of his attack made her wary. He might want the coin she stole -- he might even be the one whose purse she cut.

“What do you want?” she demanded.

His mouth twitched beneath the shadow of his hood. “That is a fine way to greet a man who saved your life.” He bent and wiped his blades on the guards’ tunics. Once clean they disappeared with a flick of his wrist. “I want only to talk.”

“Your name,” she said stubbornly.

“My name is Ezio.”

  
Anna paused, wondering if he would kill her if she simply ran. Likely.

“ _Va bene_ ,” she said, and shoved her dagger back into her belt. “Let’s talk.”

“First we will move these bodies.”

“Why? Leave them to rot.” She gave the nearest one a kick. “Pigs.”

“Show the dead some respect,” Ezio said sharply. “And unless you wish the guards to discover us with their dead comrades, help me to move them.”

* * *

 

Between the two of them the guards took little effort to move into the nearest hay stack.

The streets were mercifully empty at this time of day, as nobles and peasants alike attended midday Mass. With luck the bodies would not be discovered until well into the afternoon.

“Now we talk,” she said, when they’d piled the hay back around the corpses. She had paid little mind to the gruesome task itself; the Borgia guards had made life difficult for thieves in the past nine years. “Why did you save my life?”

“I observed your work near Il Vaticano,” Ezio replied, as if he hadn’t heard the question. “Have you ever been caught save for today?”

“No.”

“Then why waste such talents on taking money not yours?”

Anna scowled. “I steal so I can eat. If I have coin to spare it goes to those who cannot feed themselves.”

“I do not doubt your intentions, only the danger of your work.”

“I cut purses, or I lay on my back,” she said sullenly. “Those are my options, or I would starve.”

“And your options would be fewer...but the liberation of Roma has begun.”

Ezio shrugged back his hood. Beneath it was a face that was pleasing but unremarkable--he was dark-haired and dark-eyed in a city of dark-haired, dark-eyed men. The only distinguishing feature was a scar that cut through his upper and lower lip, showing white against his beard.

His gaze held hers. His eyes were intense; piercing, as if they willed her to believe the truth of his words.

“You can choose to leave if you wish, I will not stop you,” he said. “But you can also choose to fight. To use your skills against the Borgia...and to take back the city. Your city.”

“What skills are those?”

“The ones you fought for. The ones I can teach you.”

A flurry of questions crowded on her tongue, stilled only by the memory of those blades and what they had done to the guards. Then as Ezio covered his head once more, she suddenly realised where she’d seen him.

“You’re the Assassin,” she said, and he glanced at her sharply. “I have seen your picture posted about the city. The heralds talk about you.”

He smirked, and Anna could see his eyes glinting. “Do they?”

She’d heard tales of the Assassins as far back as she could remember, but they’d only been rumours trickling in with travelers from Florence or Venice. She’d never seen one in person--which, she supposed, probably meant they were doing their job.

An opportunity like this came along ‘once in a blue moon’, as her mother used to say. If the Assassins’ goal was to stir up trouble against the Borgia, it would help many. 

Anna extended her hand.

“ _Si_ ,” she said. “I will fight with you.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Pezzo di merda = piece of shit  
> Al ladro! = stop, thief!  
> Mi arrendo! = I give up!  
> Cavolo = slang. a curse word, lit. cabbage  
> Va bene = very well  
> Si = Yes


End file.
